Whispers 2a: Moments
by scribblemyname
Summary: She's been rocking on the back porch swing overlooking the garden for hours. Sequel to Whispers. Romy drabbles
1. Starts

A/N: So blame **Tearlit** for this. I do. I am not supposed to be starting any more stories that aren't already started (not posted, there's a difference), but here I am. Sequel you asked for, sequel this is. I'm going to try to post one drabble daily (they don't take that long to write).

* * *

Memories meet them at every waymark. The park bench where they once sat out all night to watch the stars. The road turning up to the Institute where Rogue actually beat him in a motorcycle race. The gates that could never bar Remy with his skills, even when she had deliberately locked him out after he blew up her CD player.

They point out each spot, tell stories to Rebecca while her brother sleeps in Mama's lap. To their little girl, this is all the start of some new, strange adventure.

Remy grins and squeezes Rogue's hand reassuringly. "Welcome home."


	2. Doubts

Rogue cleans their new room vigorously. It's a way to use up her nervous energy and to make herself feel like she's home while the renovations on the boathouse are finalized.

Because she doesn't. Not at all.

And it's far too easy to second guess herself and the decision of months of deliberation when she's tired and scared and has to keep rescuing Becca and her curious ways from the kitchen cupboards and keep Olivier out of the cleaning supplies.

Everyone has been so supportive, giving her space. But it's too much space, too much room...to doubt.

So she cleans. 


	3. Comforts

She cannot sleep. It's not the first time restless worry dragged her out of bed in this house, and she finds herself falling back into old habits, old comforts. A fresh quart of ice cream. Her favorite spoon. Hank's plush chair in the media room. An old book.

It isn't long before he finds her. "Midnight, chère," he says softly.

She hums her agreement.

With a weary sigh, he settles in beside her, comforting her in his warm embrace. They drift together, curled up in each other's familiar touch. He falls asleep to her murmured reading of "Sense and Sensibility." 


	4. Kids

Peals of childish laughter tumble down the hallway and bump into Rogue washing dishes in the kitchen. But it's the other, unfamiliar sounds that maker her turn off the faucet, dry her hands, and go investigate.

She finds them in the media room: Logan on his hands and knees with Rebecca on his back and Bobby, Remy, and Sam on the floor playing tag with her squealing son. The men all freeze instinctively, looking sheepish, when they see her staring down at them—except Remy.

_He_ grins up at her wickedly. "Jus' kidding around, chère," he says with a shrug. 


	5. Freezes

They have a new little house in the shadow of the mansion, and settling in is like déjà vu of moving in to Valle Soleada. Rogue pretends that everything is normal, that this is the living of a dream instead of its death, and she laughs when Remy tickles and chases her instead of unpacking.

But for certain breathless moments, Rogue finds herself frozen as everything washes over her again: bathing Olivier and feeling a mild tug that wasn't there before or tasting Becca's mind in a close hug. She stares into Remy's curious gaze and remembers how to breathe. 


	6. Fidgets

Sometimes she forgets all that energy has to _go_ somewhere.

Remy's always restless, always fidgeting. Shuffling cards. Bouncing his foot. Fingers exploring her when she just wants to slap him away and remind him that diaper changing isn't conducive to romantic anything.

Duly reminded, he wanders off with a mildly injured look and sits on the living room floor.

Finally, he takes the petals off a silk flower and blows them up one by one like firecrackers to Rebecca's delighted laughter and clapping hands. Remy smiles and keeps them coming. He catches Rogue's eye.

She can't help but smile back. 


	7. Backs

She's putting in the laundry when Remy startles her by pressing against her back and sliding his arms warmly around her. He whispers her name into her hair.

Rogue stiffens. It's hard to breathe, knowing he's so close and what could happen.

"Y' know it ain't that bad yet," Remy murmurs against her neck, admonishment.

She would shake her head, but it's just too _close_...

She slides carefully out of his embrace, but his hands stay stubbornly planted.

"Rogue. We talked about this." Exasperation, patience, and stubborn, stubborn love in his voice.

"I gotta wash up." She backs away quickly. 


	8. Risks

Remy's groggy all the time. Hank keeps telling her it isn't dangerous, not yet, that her powers have yet to fully rebound, but she wishes they wouldn't take such risks.

Remy refuses to back down—inside her head or out.

He keeps touching her, keeps kissing her, keeps whispering those compliments against her skin. His thoughts drip into hers like a steady faucet. He has always taken risks.

She tries to keep her distance, but those dark eyes follow her, reminding her of her promises.

_Every_ moment.

She tries not to cry that it's so much harder than she thought.


	9. Beds

Even Rogue has her limits. She refuses to give up her marriage bed.

She tells herself it's because sleeping with him, making love, the struggle not to absorb when soul brushes skin, _trying_ not to touch, these are all the things that will save them both when it _is_ deadly, _is_ dangerous.

They alternate between methods: giving themselves fully to each other while they still can and refining the techniques that allow them to be intimate without touch. It's important—necessary, she tells herself, as if that makes the risk acceptable.

But that isn't why she lets him bed her.


	10. Shops

Kitty kicks them out of their _own_ house and takes the children hostage with the strict warning they are not to return until she has some 'decent' clothes to wear.

Rogue huffs but she can't deny the pleasure in shopping with Remy and enjoying his appreciation. She goes for sheer fabric for over tank tops and tees and sheer hose for under shorts. They stop for lingerie on Remy's insistence and she only finds more things to make up for their now limited options.

"Still mad at the chaton?" Remy asks, smirking, after she's spent half their bank account.

"_Yes_."


	11. Stops

Remy's light fingers make it so easy for him to practice, touch her, and _somehow_ escape unscathed. Rogue is not so lucky. He's _in_ her now and she's afraid.

It takes longer and longer for him to recover and finally, she puts her foot down. The team needs him strong. Frankly, so does she.

She admits it quietly, "I thought it would be like before." Before she took the Cure. Before she _knew_ what it's like to love.

Remy wraps her up in his embrace. They hold each other. Never was about the skin, but... Things change.

And it isn't.


	12. Pleasures

She is left some small pleasures. His smile. His warm comfort in the bed. Quiet moments together. Early morning chats. There are so many things they have done together that she never considered did not require touch.

She finds him out on the porch swing waiting for her.

"Careful," she murmurs, and he is.

His arms slide tenderly around her, brushing over shoulders, tracing down her arms, and finally settling at her waist. She's let down her hair and is able to snuggle in under his chin without fear.

They watch the sun set and stay to watch it rise.


	13. Tickles

"Remy Lebeau, I'm gonna kill you!" Rogue shouts between helpless cries of laughter.

He merely continues to tickle her mercilessly. "Gotta be able first, chère," he informs her wickedly.

She shrieks when he finds her most ticklish spot of all. He has her thoroughly pinned beneath him on the bed, trapped in a more effective hold than Logan ever taught her, wrists captured in his hand. All her squirming and protests can't get her loose.

"Mama okay?"

Both of them fall instantly silent and stare at the sleepy questioner.

"Yes, Becca," Rogue reassures.

Afterward she giggles. Remy locks the door.


	14. Watches

Remy never grows tired of watching her.

Rogue moves with a grace that comes, oddly enough, of Danger Room practices and good instincts on a battlefield. She laughs with her entire body, and he loves to see her shoulders shake and her cheeks flush. She uses her hips to open doors, to hold a child or pot, to rest her hands on when she's giving him a good tongue-lashing.

He likes the way she'll read a book at the kitchen table, sipping tea and giving him a small, shy smile every once in a while when she feels him staring.


	15. Lapses

Sometimes Rogue lapses into silence and it takes all the power of his being not to start something just to hear her yell. Instead, he crosses the distance between them slowly, touching her, smiling at her, whispering into her hair. Her breath hitches and she stiffens, but she doesn't push him away.

Each lapse grows shorter. Her tentative smiles and hands reaching are like the first time they fell in love. This is a new world where to go without touch, sweet stolen caresses, is all but impossible—no matter that touch can be fatal.

She's learning.

They both are.


	16. Blurts

Remy never knows what hit him.

One moment, he's sparring with a virtual opponent in the Danger Room, letting loose some steam (who can blame him?). The next, he's laid out flat on his back and Rogue is perched on top of him, grinning down smugly.

"Hey, sugah."

"I take it you wanted to talk to moi," he says mildly amused.

She hums her agreement, running her gloves over his shoulders. "I think I want another baby," she blurts, then blushes.

He's surprised at first and then understanding dawns. "They're resistant." It won't hurt them.

Rogue smiles softly. "They are."


	17. Troubles

Just when Remy thought he'd somehow completely lucked out in the son department with a child that had neither his nor Rogue's proclivity for getting in trouble, Olivier goes and does this.

"What am I goin' to do with you, Liv?" he asks, shaking his head at the small child giggling down at him. _And how am I going to keep your mère from finding out._

It's a tricky proposition to figure out the best way to fish Olivier down from dangling off the ceiling fan, even trickier to figure out how he got up there in the first place.


	18. Climbs

Remy scowls at Olivier from his sprawled out position on the living room floor, leaning back against the couch.

"Can you believe it?" he asks his oblivious son, who is happily crawling on his belly toward the bookcase. "Your mère blames _me_ for this! Thinks I'm the reason you've escaped out of your playpen three days running."

And that is also the reason he's now stuck babysitting instead of Kitty. Because Rogue blames him.

Remy suddenly stares as his not even toddling child manages to climb onto the first shelf and reach for the next and...

He groans.

Olivier giggles.


	19. Bonds

The letter turns his heart upside down. While it's good to hear from the old faces, remember his family—_"Marius has died"_—he's surprised to realize he doesn't want to go back. He has his _own_ family now: Rogue, Liv, Becca, the X-Men.

He's bonded to them through blood, hardship, and the one thing he never had with anyone else before: trust.

It seems odd to him to toss this long-wanted letter casually onto his desk, stretch out on the bed beside his wife, and study her sleeping face. He brushes gloved fingers across her cheek.

She's all he needs.


	20. Breaks

"It'll be fine," Stormy says. Yeah, but Stormy don't have to break the news to his wife.

Rogue takes it with about as much grace as he expected. She explodes, demanding to go with him, but there is no way in heaven or hell or on earth he's going to let her come.

"This ain't three weeks vacation, chère! It's a mission." And a dangerous one.

He watches helplessly as the anger in her emerald eyes breaks into tears and she runs from him before he can catch her.

Olivier wants to play, but all Remy can do is wait.


	21. Grazes

Remy rises early, long before Rogue is awake. He stops for a moment before leaving and tenderly brushes back the silky white and chestnut hair to graze a kiss over her temple.

He wonders how much of him slips into her dreams, whether she can feel his love and just how much he wishes he didn't have to leave her now. It is only reluctantly that he lets himself pull away.

The team members acknowledge him as he takes his place on the jet.

But his mind is still back in the boathouse. His heart is still under her skin.


	22. Misses

It took a bit for Remy to get used to those near misses in the bed, where Rebecca's small limbs would find the most _uncomfortable_ places possible to kick or lean her weight on when she clambered in with her parents.

Now, he misses them.

He misses the warm comfort of Rogue's form snuggled into his, he misses the soft sound of Olivier's breathing from the nursery just off their room, and he even misses Rebecca knocking the wind out of him by landing hard on his chest.

He's counting the days until his return.

Two and a half weeks.


	23. Teases

Logan teases him while they're gearing up. "You know, Gumbo, I never thought I'd see you whipped."

"You're so far _gone_," Sam elaborates.

Remy raises an eyebrow.

"You've crossed over," Sam continues with dramatic flourish. "You've left the race of independent men and submitted to a higher power. You're one of _those_ guys."

"A family guy?" Remy asks, equally amused.

Kitty turns a pointed look on Piotr. "I actually find that quality _extremely_ attractive."

The guys freeze for a moment, but then they break out laughing. Logan claps a friendly arm on Remy's shoulder. After all, it's just good-natured teasing.


	24. Voices

"Hello?"

Hopeful curiosity fills the simple word. Remy wonders if she's hoping that it's him.

He holds the phone a little closer to his ear. "Jus' wanted to hear your voice," he says softly.

"Remy?" She's all breathless and sweet. Her voice washes over him, apologizing, loving, _missing_ him. "Hold on a sec, sugar."

He waits through the odd little half-sounds that go with outside activities.

Then a bright, little chirp comes on the line. "Père!" Rebecca and something beside her that sounds like Olivier's attempt at the word.

He smiles. "It's moi."

"Love you!"

He listens to their voices.


	25. Cards

She's folding laundry when she finds the first card, it's weight familiar in her fingers. She smiles at the rush of memories. Her Queen of Hearts.

An ace of spades peeks from behind the teacup she always drinks from after giving Olivier his bottle. A jack of diamonds hides under her gloves. A two of clubs on the edge of the playpen. Fifty-one cards in his sharp scrawl ease the anxious waiting during his first mission.

But it isn't until night when he _is_ home, safe in her arms, that she breathes her relief and clutches her King of Hearts. 


	26. Meets

It was hard to say who was happier to see who. Little Rebecca flew on unsteady feet to meet him. Remy barely got off the jet before he had her wrapped in his arms and swinging around to peals of precious laughter.

Rogue walked up slowly, balancing Olivier's sleeping form on her hip and drinking Remy in with her eyes. He's here. He's safe.

Her heart beat too fast when he sets Becca down to reach for her. She let him touch her, leaning into the caress.

"Love you," she whispered.

"Love y'," he whispered roughly back and kissed her.


	27. Dresses

She dresses carefully Saturday nights, kisses her sleeping babies, and thanks whatever girlfriend is on shift for the week.

And then _he_ comes for her and whisks her away, her own Prince Charming.

The ballet. Fine dining. Symphonies. Remy has always known how to romance a girl. But she loves it best when they dance.

He makes her forget for hours on end that she cannot touch. His hands trace the straps of her dress, caress rich colors, bury themselves in her fragrant hair, worn long for him. Her skin remembers what it feels like to have him slide beneath.


	28. Eyes

Remy eyes their children warily as Olivier crawls up behind Rebecca, then winces when he starts a tussle with his older sister.

Rogue laughs at him and then his chagrined glance.

She loves to watch the play of light and darkness in his eyes. The red irises glow with their own inner fires, burning with intentness, brightening with laughter, dimming with open trust, darkening with worry, and smoldering with desire. He turns those eyes on her and she catches her breath.

He smirks, as flirtatious as ever and knowing exactly what he does to her.

Rogue glares as he chuckles.


	29. Clouds

The first time she broaches the topic, he holds his breath, and Rogue wonders for a moment if she shouldn't have. He doesn't answer right away, finishes shaving, wipes his face dry, then turns to look at her. She sees a warning in those eyes.

"You sure, chère?"

She nods.

But there are still storm clouds in Remy's eyes. "If we want more, we can always adopt," he points out. He was adopted himself.

But she shakes her head. She wants her _own_ children of her _own_ flesh. Hers and Remy's.

Finally, he relents. "D'accord. We'll go talk to Hank."


	30. Silences

He's been silent and drawn since they talked with Hank, and it's beginning to wear on her.

At night, she wraps her arms around him, longing to bridge the gap between. After a long moment, he returns the gesture, sliding around with infinite tenderness.

His voice is rough into her hair. "Anna..."

She wants to melt into that voice, his embrace, but she cannot let it lie. "What's wrong, Remy?"

He stiffens, but she reaches up, caressing him.

"Please," she whispers. She would rather hear whatever terrible thing he's feeling than let him spare her.

She cannot bear his silences.


	31. Answers

Remy doesn't answer right away, but finally he draws away and sits up on the edge of the bed.

"Mon frère and Mercy, they tried for a while to have a baby," he says quietly. "She cried all the time."

Her heart clenches and Rogue reaches out, needing to touch him and ground herself.

He looks at her, dark eyes burning. "It's one thing to read on paper, thirty-five percent live birth rate. It's another thing to lose your child."

"They—" she starts to ask, but no words come.

His eyes soften. He comes to her and holds her.


	32. Laughs

While washing the dishes, Rogue listens to Remy's laughter as he plays on the floor with Rebecca and Olivier, pretending they're strong enough to tackle him successfully. Such heavy thoughts have been whirling around her mind, this is the first she's managed to really enjoy anything outside of herself. She loves how he laughs, throwing back his head, eyes glowing with pure happiness.

Rogue dries her hands and goes over to slide her arms around him.

"Rogue?" he whispers, holding the children at bay.

"Is it worth it?" she whispers back.

He studies her a long moment before answering, "Oui."


	33. Words

She and Remy decided to wait until after their first real sit-down evaluation and samples-drawing before telling the children about their plans.

Becca scrunches up her nose and looks exceedingly doubtful. "Anot'er?" she asks. She casts a dubious glance at Liv, who seems far more interested in his toes.

"Oui," Remy replies, taking the lead for a moment. He pulls the squirming girl into his lap. "We going to have another baby. You okay with that, p'tite?"

Rogue smiles at her daughter's skeptical expression. But Olivier grins and claps his hands, shouting, "Baby!"

Remy groans. "Of all the first words..."


	34. Waits

Anxious knots tie up her lungs while they wait.

She thought she had gotten over all her bedroom self-consciousness—three years and two children will do that—but the whole concept of artificial insemination and what it involves has her blushing for weeks.

Remy just laughs at her. She throws a pillow at his head.

And it isn't just the embarrassment or potential risks or the very strange feeling when she has to wear that _thing_ for an entire day to give enough time for conception. No, it's the _waiting_, uncertainly, until they know for sure one way or another.


	35. Showers

Finding time away from the kids is getting harder with Rebecca's newfound exuberance with the outdoors (she's brought in more plants from Storm's garden than anyone thought were _in_ it) and Olivier's emerging talent for getting through baby gates ("That boy'll be a good T'ief, one day").

So Rogue follows Remy into the shower after training.

He's a little surprised, if clearly not displeased, and laughs when she insists on doing the washing. It makes it easier if she's staring at his back when she breaks the news.

"Quoi?" He twists around to see her.

She smiles nervously. "It worked."


	36. Hopes

Most miscarriages occur within the first six weeks of pregnancy. Both of them know this, understand it, and for that reason, Rogue does not begrudge him the fact that he refuses to get his hopes up until they've passed that mark.

It doesn't stop her from getting up hers.

It's been over a year since Olivier was born, and she didn't even realize she missed this sweet feeling of having a life growing inside of her until it came back again about twenty hours ago, test results positive. Rogue feels giddy as she goes about, humming to herself, and hoping.


	37. Hits

It hits him all at once. He stares at the black x's lined up neatly down two pages of the calendar, counts them again. Forty-two.

"Père..." Rebecca pulls on his leg. "Don't you want t' play with us?" Her pout will be as devastating as Rogue's when she's all grown up.

But now...

"In a minute, p'tite."

Remy lets the calendar slide out of his fingers and draws in a shaky breath.

This is real.

His gut says, too easy, too soon. His head says, already a father, no different. His heart feels like something hit it—very, very hard.


	38. Demands

Over the past few years, Remy has grown comfortable with Hank, enough to sit behind him on a counter, listening to him mutter scientific formulae that make no sense, and wait. Enough to be blunt.

"How's this goin' to interact with her mutation?" Remy demands. He needs to know. He doesn't say that he hadn't believed she _could_ get pregnant—at least, not and stay that way.

Hank winds up. "Without precedent for this thrilling undertaking, I couldn—"

"What are the odds, Hank?" Remy's voice softens.

"Seeing she has passed six weeks, quite good, I believe."

But doesn't know.


	39. Honeymoons

She hums softly around the house. It's almost disconcerting to him just how comfortable Rogue has become. It's a new role: homemaker, mother, wife. Not X-man. It's different than their overly-extended honeymoon.

Remy plays with the children, balances the checkbook (whoever thought a Thief would end up doing _that?_), and blows off steam in the Danger Room, anything to stop from looking at the way this new life feels. Is this where the honeymoon ends and the real work of a marriage begins?

But when he slides in under the covers to join her in bed, she's still humming, content.


	40. Likes

"What are y' up to, chère?" Remy asks suspiciously.

But she doesn't remove the blindfold. "Just trust me, 'kay?"

He simply sighs and follows her down two more steps, hits concrete... He frowns.

"The garage?"

"Shut it, sugah." Rogue turns him, then slides her arms up around him, holding him close before whisking off the blindfold. "What do you think?" she asks gleefully.

Remy just stares at the classic, fully restored Harley Davidson motorcycle gleaming in front of him. "I t'ink you're crazy," he finally gets out.

She chuckles huskily in his ear. "I guess that means you like it."


	41. Rides

Remy has no intention of going alone, and so Rogue finds herself laughing from the back of his bike as, for a little while, they remember what it was like to be young, touchable, and without responsibility. He takes her up to the place they had their first date.

She pulls him close with a breathy whisper, "Let's dance."

It's enough for a little while to forget his fears and that the danger of _having_ a family is being able to _lose_ them. Instead, they watch the sunset from each other's arms as if no time at all has passed.


	42. Anchors

She's his anchor. The cords of their love tether him to a relationship that just five years ago would have been intolerable, but is now so infinitely precious.

He holds her tenderly against him during the night and finds himself whispering prayers to an almost forgotten God that their unborn child will be kept safe. He sees her face and humor in little Liv and her sass and fire in Becca's stubborn ways.

And _finally_, the knowledge sinks in: he doesn't have to fight for her anymore.

It doesn't matter that he cannot touch her skin. He holds her heart.


	43. Shocks

These things happen suddenly. He _knows_ that.

That doesn't stop the shock of blood on the sheets that has nothing to do with Rogue's long gash from weeding with Stormy or any of his own scrapes. It's that pummel in his gut again, the shock of a sword in his brother-in-law's body, of blood in the street, of his wife's scream...

He wasn't ready.

This isn't supposed to happen. They were past this. He isn't supposed to have birth and death on the selfsame day. He isn't supposed to hold their precious baby girl, knowing she'll never open her eyes.


	44. Blanks

Rogue stares blankly out the window. Part of him resents her for not knowing how to deal with this when both of them _knew_ it could happen. The other, better, part simply wants to cradle her in his arms and take all the hurt away.

He can't.

She doesn't even see him.

Remy cooks the meals (when an X-girl doesn't first) and gets the kids in and out of bed and baths. He's off-duty for a few weeks ("Take as long as you need."), but he isn't. Not really.

He's reaching for his wife, needing to fill in the blanks.


	45. Bridges

He tries everything to bridge this nameless wound between them. Rogue doesn't answer questions. His touch leaves her cold. Finally, Remy balls up all his grief and rage and flings it at her, needing her reaction, her anger, _something_.

"She had m' eyes." He grits the words through his teeth, that painful, terrible truth. The first child that is visibly his has died.

She looks up at him then, sucking in her breath sharply. It hurts, but when she embraces him, wordless comfort, their tears mingle and breath is harsh and jagged. He's feeling. He's finally, _finally_, feeling her again.


	46. Names

Oddly enough, it's Rebecca that starts them healing.

Over the breakfast table, Becca and Liv are planning out their crayon picture of the family in some mixture of English, Cajun interjections, and baby talk. "What's her name?" she demands suddenly.

Rogue inhales sharply and Remy nearly drops his spoon.

Liv peers curiously at both of them.

It's only hours later, after talking and crying and talking some more, that Rogue asks Remy to pick, and he wonders why she leaves it to him. But he doesn't ask when her eyes and tone are so serious.

They name her Mercy Marie.


	47. Quiets

He watches her for a while. She walks around in a quiet place. Perhaps it's better than the aching grief, and it's certainly better than the emptiness surrounding her for so long. Now, when he slides his arms around her, she smiles softly, leans against him long enough to accept his embrace, but they don't really talk. Her mind is somewhere far away.

He wonders what she's thinking, but anytime he asks, she just shakes her head.

"Don't worry about me, sugar," she says and draws away to some other task. Leaving him alone.

He wishes she wasn't so quiet.


	48. Worries

A/N: I'm actually quite pleased with the revision. Sorry it came late. Now, I can start writing again.

* * *

Every time he has started or stopped worrying about her, it has always been a gradual thing. He cannot pin down the exact moments involved. This time is different, definable.

Three and a half weeks after Mercy's birth (and death). Almost nine o'clock in the evening. Rogue slides into his arms and tucks her head against his covered chest. She sighs softly, "It's worth it."

He tightens his grip on her, uncertain. "Rogue..."

"It's worth it, Remy," she murmurs, falling off into sleep.

Remy catches his breath at the sharp memory of her question that first day. He stops worrying.


	49. Concerns

She doesn't tell him everything. It nibbles at the undersides of her conscience, but how can she possibly explain that she had prepared herself for any possible way of losing Mercy _except_ absorbing her?

It's been months since the Cure faded, and Rogue has often felt Becca and Liv's minds in hers. Yet it doesn't hurt them. Ever.

But Mercy...

Mercy is still _in_ her. She dreams the sweetness of her lost daughter and ponders exactly what to do, what to say. In the end, she waits for Remy to run some errands with the kids and talks to Hank.


	50. Wells

Rogue listens to the reassuring sound of Remy's heartbeat beneath her head. She struggles to find the words to tell him, but her well feels completely dry.

Finally, she sighs. "I love you," she whispers, as if it could be enough.

Remy shifts a little under her and holds her tighter. "What's bothering you, chérie?"

The emotions welling up in her take her off guard and she has to blink back tears before they can fall and stain his shirt, giving her away. She shakes her head. "I want control. _Complete_."

He catches his breath.

She thinks he knows why.


	51. Thieves

Rogue has never quite appreciated what it means to be a thief. Not petty criminal or pickpocket, but Thief. Remy's background has always been a shadowy past with very real specters to haunt them, but she never understood the resources, training, and contacts that went with it.

"They'll love y'," he reassures her on the drive down.

But somehow his words do not reassure her. Not when she's standing on the doorstep of an old-style mansion of an old-world family with more wealth than Xavier and from much more shady dealings. But Remy...

He fits within this world. He's home.


	52. Mercies

They love the children.

Rogue finds herself relaxing as these New Orleans men play with Rebecca and Olivier, patiently listening to their childish tales, and laughing and tickling and being as much uncles as X-Men. Remy is enduring a lecture from his Tante Mattie that is threatening to break into a second hour. Mercy is sitting by Rogue.

"So dat's why you can't have more children?" Remy's sister-in-law frowns. Her eyes are troubled.

Rogue doesn't really answer, doesn't need to. These two women, they understand each other. They watch Rebecca shock Emil by winning the pot.

Mercy nods. "We'll help."


	53. Knots

When Remy slides into bed, she doesn't respond. She stares, sleepless, into the darkness of his old bedroom, stomach all knots.

"Anna?" He only uses her name in the most intimate of moments.

She cannot help but respond then, twisting around to bury her face in his chest.

"I'm scared," she admits, whispering because it hurts to voice her fears, even if she isn't telling him she doesn't like being here, with Belladonna, his family, everything he once wanted. She lets him think it's about control, something they never had.

_Coward, _she calls herself, knotting her fingers in his shirt.


	54. Wars

A/N: Thank you, **CurrentlyIncognito**, for the inspiration and kick in the pants to get this out.

* * *

She isn't talking and he doesn't like it, so he pulls an absolutely typical Remy.

He takes her out to see childhood sites and then manages to "accidentally" shove into her in the park. Rogue laughs and declares war. Maybe they're a little old to be tussling in the grass in a public park like a couple of kids, but it's just what she needs to loosen up, let go, and remember why she's doing all of this.

Remy smirks up at her when she pins him. "Better?"

"Don't rub it in." Rogue plants both elbows on his chest. "Yes."


	55. Schedules

When she hears the training schedule they have in mind, she starts shaking her head "no" before they can even finish.

Mercy gives her a sympathetic look, but her tone is anything but. "Thieves can steal anything they want to, Rogue, _except_ skill. It only comes with training."

"Skills are about the only thing I _can_ steal," Rogue stresses.

Remy chuckles beside her. "An' cookies." He gets elbowed. Hard.

"What you're asking..."

"You're already doing it," Mercy snaps. "Just not to learn from it."

Remy pulls her close. "We can do this, chère. I promise."

She struggles to believe him.


	56. Balks

This is where things get hard.

Take a _mother_, order her to hold onto her children until she can get past the resistance that keeps them safe, and then expect her not to balk.

Rogue balks.

Remy reminds her the plan is not to harm the children, that _he's_ the one she'll be absorbing. They need to compare the ones she does not hurt to the one she does.

It doesn't make Rogue feel any better about it.

"_You_ didn't go through all of this!" she sputters.

Remy's face goes still. "Chérie. You do not want to pay that price."


	57. Talks

She's almost surprised that it's comforting when Rebecca and Olivier think nothing of it. They crawl all over her and settle in for storytime without even noticing that their skin remains in contact with Rogue's for far longer than she ordinarily allows. Their voices in her head grow stronger, but their voices outside do not grow weaker.

"It's been four hours," Mercy points out two nodding heads and a nap later. "I'm beginning to t'ink dey're just immune."

They talk things over and come to a startling, almost shocking conclusion. Absorbing minds and absorbing _life_ are two very different things.


	58. Wins

"De fille cheated me!" Henri shouts, aggrieved.

Becca claps her hands excitedly. "Win!"

Rogue merely giggles over her cup of tea while Mercy groans over hers.

"What did you bet, y' fou?" she demands of her husband.

"Won his keys, Mama!" Becca shouts back, grinning.

The women react in unison. "You what?" Rogue to the underage winner gleefully swinging house keys, _car_ keys on a chain and Mercy to the scowling, shamefaced loser of the poker match.

Tante Mattie's deep, hearty laughter suddenly breaks into the shock and her sides heave. "I tol' you not to play your brother's fille!"


	59. Loves

Tea with the girls is a way for Rogue to unwind before absorbing Remy. To be honest, she doesn't want to do it. One of the things she loved before that last day in Valle Soleada was that he was the one person that meant something to her that had never been in her head.

But somehow he always makes it perfect.

The first time she tasted Remy's mind, it was his love for her that overwhelmed her and filled her until she wanted to be lost in him forever. This time, too, it's his love that welcomes her home.


	60. Wakes

Rogue strokes her fingers gently through her husband's hair, waiting for him to wake. She has thought often in the last long hours of the first time she realized he trusted her. She moved about his room and he did not wake, not until she brushed the hair back from his eyes and kissed him.

She dares not kiss him now.

She leans in close, breathes soft against his cheek, "Remy, _please_ wake up." Her whisper is almost a prayer.

Those smoldering red and black eyes, like dark flames, open up to look at her. "Chère."

Rogue smiles weakly. "Hey."


	61. Views

From the first time he met her, he has been utterly fascinated by her. He wants to understand and know her mind, her thoughts, the climate of her emotions, the way she moves and breathes, that easy grace, the things that please her, the fullness of her beauty. Now, he has a new fascination: her mutation.

With just a touch, she can take a memory, a skill, thoughts, _feelings_, his very personality—anything at all. The idea of such intimacy is heady, even thrilling, to one like him. The trust required, breathtaking.

A million ways to view each other's heart.


	62. Tantes

While the Guild has trained more mutants than any other family Remy knows, it's Tante Mattie that provides the comfort and support. He has Rogue tucked under his arm as Tante explains.

"It came back all slow like, an' y' just _knew_ y' were goin' t' hurt him."

"Yes," Rogue whispers, but she doesn't meet Tante's gaze.

Tante nods. "Unreasonable to hope but wit' de children, y' did."

Remy holds his chère a little closer and she finds the strength to nod back. "Hank said there was a chance."

Tante Mattie pats Rogue's knee with understanding. "Y' body believed y'."


	63. Practices

They practice in seconds. Three seconds: long enough to weaken him without knocking him unconscious, long enough to transfer a single skill, memory, or mutant power. She's reaching for a memory now.

Remy's used to the draining sensation by now, the way it feels like his soul is turned inside out and the world fades to black, and instead of feeling that, he focuses on _her_, the way her cheeks flush and her mouth forms an "O" as she pulls away and says, "Remy!"

He chuckles. "Memory, chérie, not fantasy."

Rogue glares at him.

Jean-Luc just shakes his head. "Again."


	64. Touches

She seems nervous, and while it's understandable, it only makes him laugh.

Rogue glares darkly.

"It's not like we ain't done this before," he points out before leaning in to touch her.

She sucks in her breath. "Not recently."

He shrugs. "Much funner than in front of m' père."

She rolls her eyes. "You _would_ think that."

"But of course."

Then he's touching her in earnest—_real_ practice, brushing a butterfly kiss over her shoulder, sliding his hand along her arm. Always has to be so careful to withdraw when her skin responds.

Finally, he's drained and stops. "Not bad."


	65. Reads

Rebecca has no problem being the small queen of all the attention showered on her by tantes and oncles she didn't even know she had. Olivier is harder to please.

Remy's actually going over some of the statistics for Rogue's training when all the papers are rudely shoved out of his lap to be replaced by a small boy staring up at him reproachfully, book in hand.

"Read," Liv commands imperiously before settling in to enjoy himself.

More than a little startled, but certainly not about to argue, Remy opens the book of fairytales and begins to read. He smiles.


	66. Scowls

"Just _one_ thing, chérie," Remy says. He's leaning back on his hands on the floor, about the only position he can actually manage at the moment. "Not the memory and my power _and_ card throwing."

"I _got_ the memory," she states icily, not even glancing up from uncharging her entire wardrobe.

Jean-Luc chuckles and shakes his head at them from the middle of a mess of fallen cards. Unfortunately, said memory involved Remy in a fight.

Remy tilts his head appraisingly, waiting for Rogue to notice.

Finally, task complete, she looks up. "What, Swamp Rat?"

"_Love_ the eyes."

She scowls.


	67. Reproaches

A/N: Promise you, **Merr2**, that I am writing the next chapter of _Old New England Saw_, but this was fast when it came to me and I already had the next three written.

* * *

The first time the children saw his eyes on Rogue, their eyes went wide in shock. Olivier hid behind Remy's leg while Rebecca demanded of him what he'd done to their mama.

After a little explanation, they calmed down.

Now they're used to seeing her with this or that trait or mannerism or accent of one of their Cajun relatives, though they still cast reproachful gazes at Remy as if _he_ somehow should make it stop.

"I'm beginning to think they blame _me_ for your mutation," he complains while getting ready for bed.

Rogue retorts, "You _are_ the worst offender."


	68. Results

The basic idea of Guild training is simple: live it, breathe it, drink it, sleep it until you get it right.

They go out of their way to touch her, these Thieves, and his primary duty soon shifts from that of being constantly absorbed to that of keeping her comfortable.

Hugs, handshakes, friendly touches, pats on the cheek, arm brushes, and all the bewildering array of human contact they're forcing her to get used to. Slowly but surely, it's paying off.

But neither of them know who cries first when she touches him one night and nothing happens at all.


	69. Twirls

They take off for the night to celebrate. No matter there's still a long road to go, more lessons to learn and practice and _become_ before she has mastered her power, _this_ moment is one to cherish.

He dances her in his arms and remembers anew the flashing sparkle in her eyes, the way she fits against him, the glorious sound of her laugh.

Rogue twirls out in a bright circle before sliding into his arms again. He holds her close, nuzzles her neck, and is pleased at how small the tug is.

"Remy?" she breathes.

"Chère?"

"Let's go home."


	70. Rushes

This is what hope feels like, the feverish rush of practice in their last two weeks in New Orleans, the sweet prattle of his children—"Mama's touching people!"—the way Mercy smiles like she used to before her own loss, Henri's congratulations, Tante Mattie's knowing smile, Jean-Luc's toast and open approval of Remy's choice in wife.

Everything's going to be okay.

He's never felt this way before, not since everything with Belladonna went so, so wrong. Not since exile.

Not his past nor her mutation can dampen his spirits now. Nothing in their future can possibly take this feeling away.


	71. Surprises

Rogue's already snuggled in the covers when he settles in beside her, but she shifts a little when he draws her into his arms.

"You call them?" she asks.

"Oui." He stares down at her, noticing how sweet she looks staring sleepily up at him. His fingers reach almost unconsciously to fiddle with the white streak caressing her cheek. "You know, I never told dem why we were coming down. Just said we were visiting the famille."

It takes a moment before understanding flickers in her eyes. "Oh?" She giggles.

He shrugs. "We could surprise them."

Her eyes sparkle. "Let's."


	72. Hugs

Leaving New Orleans again is like cutting out a piece of himself, but this time, there is no anger, no bitterness. Instead, he makes seven promises to write or call, finds himself drawn into more hugs than he can count, and watches all the precious goodbyes with his children.

"C'mere, y' rascal!" Henri catches a shrieking Liv in an iron grip.

"An' y' too," Tante Mattie's voice echoes behind him, and Remy spins around to be caught in one last hug. It means more than the rest. "Go home, Remy," she says. "But never forget t' come back here again."


	73. Accents

A/N: as a side note: if you've ever read _Without a Trace_, can you vote in the poll on my profile? Please?

* * *

Hank is aghast at the children's English upon their return. Thick and spicy with Cajun flair and French vocabulary, their voices sound—justifiably—as though they've lived the last thirteen months in their father's home.

"What happened?" he demands.

Rogue has no energy to bother about it. "I've just driven two days with two cranky children halfway across the country, Hank. Spare me."

Logan snorts at her words and Remy's chuckle follows her down the hallway.

The girls are sweeter, grabbing happily chattering Liv and a sleepy Becca to ooh and ah and cuddle.

Storm hugs Rogue warmly. "Welcome home."


	74. Clothes

She declares independence by throwing on her favorite pair of shorts from Valle Soleada, a cherry-colored tank top, and sandals. No sheer overshirt. No sheer hose. No mitigation between the rest of the world and her own very dangerous skin.

"I like it," Remy says with a chuckle before kissing her lightly on the neck.

It isn't perfect. She can feel that tiny burst of his pleasure, but it fades so quickly and Remy himself is unaffected.

She twirls about in his arms and leans against him to get a real kiss. All she feels is her own heartfelt satisfaction.


	75. Drops

Logan drops his bagel. Kitty and Piotr stop talking and stare. Hank's bushy eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline. Jubilee falls out of her chair.

Rogue just grins at them, hand in Remy's swinging easily between them. "Morning," she says lightly.

Remy chuckles and moves his arm to her waist, flaunting all that bare skin against bare skin.

Lorna gives him The Look over her orange juice, all royal demand and less than impressed. "Care to share?"

"Well, you didn't _really_ think we were just visiting family, did you?" Rogue asks coyly.

Logan laughs at Hank's grimace. "Professional envy?"


	76. Offers

She turns down Logan's offer for a place on the team and accepts Kitty's invite to be bridesmaid.

"When did that happen?" Rogue isn't the only one to demand.

Kitty blushes fiercely. "Piotr asked me last week."

The girls congratulate her and make plans and ooh and ah over wedding dresses. Kitty drags Rogue away from the group after a little while.

"How do you make it work?" she asks anxiously. "You and Remy are so _good_ together."

Rogue stares. She's never thought about it, and it takes her a long time to answer. "We always put each other first."


	77. Notices

Little things she's never noticed before now catch her attention and hold it.

How Remy lets her sleep and Rogue only finds out in the morning that Becca had a nightmare. The number of guys poker nights he's missed to spend time with her. How he hauls himself out of bed hours before he likes to get up to make _her_ breakfast. That he always knows which of her library books are due.

"Remy LeBeau," she drawls, one hand on her hip, "you are dangerously close to perfect."

He stares at her for a long moment, then laughs in disbelief.


	78. Fits

Each girl has a different fit: curvy, willow, straight as an arrow, a little dot of preciousness. Everyone smiles over the flower girl dress on Becca.

"Look like you, Mama." Becca giggles and twirls beside her mama's grown-up version of the bridesmaid dress.

Rogue has always had an hourglass figure, and even after three pregnancies, her measurements have yet to change.

So she is more than a little surprised at the numbers on the slip of paper Moira hands her.

"This is _larger_ than my waist," she says.

Moira wraps the paper measuring tape around her waist again. "It isn't."


	79. Prods

Her mutation is viciously in evidence that night, and it draws a raised eyebrow from Remy. He puts the kids to bed early—over her and their protests—then sits her down on their bed and demands her to tell him what's wrong.

She blushes and studies her own fingers knotting and unknotting.

"Rogue," he prods.

"I'm getting fat," she mutters abruptly.

Remy blinks, then pulls her into his arms. "First of all, y' ain't." He lays a finger over her mouth to stop her protest. "Second, if y' ever do get all matronly, I'm still goin' to love you."


	80. Shrieks

It's been over a month since they returned to the school and their boathouse, and Rogue has yet to put together a proper shopping list. She's checking all the toiletries when her sudden shriek brings the pitter patter of running feet and cries of "Mama! You okay?"

Rogue sits there, laughing and crying, and pulls Becca with her worried face and Liv with his sweet hugs into her lap. She holds them close and reassures them. "Mama's just fine."

But she stares at the unopened pink box she should have completely emptied by now and can barely believe it's full.


	81. Counts

A/N: For those who recognize this: yes, it was in the first version of the story, but hit the cutting room floor during the revision. I loved it though, so when I saw room for it in the new version, POUNCE! New chapter. :grins:

Further note: I _am _writing, but my best working time was at work and that's getting harder to pull off and I'm preparing for a weeklong trip to San Antonio _at the end of the month_, and I'm just altogether running short on time. I promise a lot of chapters in November, but not so much before.

* * *

Twenty minutes. It feels just like the first time they decided to have a baby. Rogue is lying on her back on the bed, butterflies roaming her stomach like marauders as she stares steadily at the red numbers of Remy's alarm clock.

Remy's off training. She's counting down minutes.

Nineteen.

In nineteen minutes, she'll walk over to the bathroom and pull out the little tester to check for a small pink strip on the lefthand side. She'll know then and start plotting what to tell Remy, for better or for worse.

Rogue sighs heavily, eyes fixed on the clock.

Eighteen.


	82. Snaps

She's absolutely floored. And she has no idea how to tell him.

"Mama, come play?" Liv asks, tugging on her hand.

Becca brings over a book to be read to.

"Not now, sugah." Rogue finally manages to haul herself off the bed from where she collapsed in shock after viewing the test and gets on the phone long enough to ask Logan if he'll take the kids for the evening.

"What's going on?" he asks.

She can almost see his narrowed eyes in her head and she rolls her own. "Will you or won't you?" she snaps.

He sighs. "Sure."


	83. Blurts II

Rogue waits for him in front of the fireplace, tucked up in her favorite blanket on the couch. She made him coffee the way he likes it and herself a cup of tea and hopes he won't notice she's dressed up a little nicer for him and put on her makeup just because she couldn't stop herself from doing so.

Of course, he notices.

"An' to what do I owe dis pleasure?" Remy asks, throwing his coat on an empty chair and sitting down beside her.

Her mouth is dry. She _still_ isn't quite sure what to say.

"I'm pregnant."


	84. Chuckles

He stares at her for such a long time, she begins to wonder if he's going to say anything at all. She reaches up tentative fingers to brush his hair out of his eyes, hoping to read him. But then, he reaches out and ghosts a touch along her cheek, leans in close, and kisses her.

She closes her eyes and sinks into his warmth, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. She smiles against his mouth.

"So you're happy?" she asks.

He chuckles and she swallows the rich sound as he kisses her again. "Oui, ma chère."


	85. Regrets

Happy isn't quite the word for it. A mixture of delight, worry, love, and excitement knots up his insides. It's the first time they're having a baby with her mutation in full force and under control.

When word gets out, the guys congratulate him and slap him on the back, while Logan grumbles about losing one of his best team members to full-time motherhood, something Remy simply cannot regret.

He _does_ regret the intrusive enthusiasm of the team. This time feels so personal, something he'd rather have shared with just Rogue, _their_ treasure they've fought so hard for. _Their_ child.


	86. Exits

Kitty freaks. "Pregnant? You'll be, like, omigosh!, _eight_ months along!" She falls back onto the couch, staring glassy-eyed at Rogue, giggling madly, and Remy, staring blankly.

"Chaton. Can't help but think I'm missing something."

Kitty stares at _him_ like he is the one crazy. "Eight months pregnant in a _bridesmaid_ dress we'll have final fittings for two _weeks_ before that!"

Rogue sits down next to Kitty and wraps an arm around her consolingly. "Don't worry, sugar. We'll figure it out."

They promptly return to girlish squeals and excitement, and Remy goes back to figuring out how to make an exit.


	87. Surrenders

Remy collapses on the couch after a particularly grueling exercise (he'd wanted to give his students a tough program, never dreaming they'd pranked him the Danger Room setup to run three levels higher than whatever he called).

Rogue raises an eyebrow. He's not sure if it's for him or the cookie she's chewing speculatively.

"How's the recipe?"

She shrugs. "It's Storm's."

"Add cinnamon."

Rogue laughs and comes over to snuggle in beside him. "Tired?"

"Mm." He buries his face against her. She just feels so _right_. "T'ink _maybe_ I can get used to dis."

"Extended family?" She sounds amused.

"Yeah."


	88. Races

Remy hadn't noticed how caught up in home life they've been until they got back to the mansion and people started making more demands upon their time. To be specific, girls whisking away his wife for sleepovers and lunches and girl talk, and Logan hauling _him_ in for Danger Room sessions and poker and co-ed nights at Harry's.

He finally grabs Rogue and makes a break for it, dragging her laughing and shouting out to their motorcycles.

"What's wrong?" she asks, breathless.

They've gotten too domestic, he thinks. He says, "Race y'," and does _not_ give her a head start.


	89. Clocks

She kicks his butt in the Danger Room.

"Chère, dat's jus' wrong." Remy groans as he peels himself off the floor to meet Rogue's crossed arms and baleful glare.

"Excuse me?" she says.

He rolls his eyes. Is she really _that_ oblivious? He's just had his clock cleaned by his _pregnant_ wife who hasn't spent any real time in the Danger Room over a year. But Remy doesn't want her to clean his clock again, so he settles for indicating the control booth and way too many hands and faces pressed against the window.

"Ain't exactly great for m' reputation."


	90. Features

This is the most uneventful pregnancy Rogue has had.

Of course, on more than one occasion, he's returned to the boathouse from some X business or other to find an empty refrigerator and Becca and Liv hanging off his arms crying dramatically for more food. But all together, it's been quite comfortable and she hasn't asked for anything weird or had cramps or mood swings or any of the other worrisome features of pregnancies past.

"Y' happy, chère?" he asks her sometimes, absently twirling her hair through his fingers.

She laughs and settles one hand gently over her stomach. "Yes."


	91. Shrugs

It's one of _those_ moments. The mighty Wolverine comes down from on high and sits across from Remy, the one man he's never _quite_ got along with—stealing his favorite cub from under his nose might have something to do with it—and offers him a truce.

At least, that's how Remy chooses to interpret the simple grunt and afterthought of, "I guess you keep her happy."

He takes another swig of his drink before answering. "I try to."

"You pick the middle name yet?"

Remy eyes Logan dubiously, but the feral shrugs, seemingly nonchalant.

"Thought you might like Kayla."


	92. Scrambles

A/N: I swear I'm going to do review replies, just a wee busy right now.

* * *

"Logan asked 'bout calling her Kayla," he tells Rogue while sliding under the covers.

She scrambles upright, and he frowns as it pulls her out of his grasp. "He what?"

"Rogue," he says impatiently, reaching for her again.

But she pays his action little heed, instead staring, shocked. "_Logan_ asked that?"

"Quoi?"

She answers softly, "That was the name of someone he loved."

"Who?" pipes up a sharp, young voice from the foot of their bed.

Both Remy and Rogue stare toward the interloper before Rogue shakes her head ruefully and dives for him.

"Gotcha!"

Olivier shrieks.

Remy frowns thoughtfully.


	93. Ties

A/N: review replies coming soon, I swear.

* * *

Piotr adjusts his tie one more time, and finally Remy loses it.

Piotr looks at him in the mirror. "This is not funny, Remy." He sounds a touch hurt and a lot exasperated with his best man.

Remy shakes his head. "Dieu, the way you've been carrying on, you'd think the girl hadn't practically asked _you_ to marry her."

"She did not."

"So the topic of May being a good month for weddings was completely random?" Remy gives him an amused smirk.

Piotr shakes his head and returns his attention to his own image. He sighs. And grabs another tie.


	94. Mouths

The bride is beautiful.

He has eyes only for the maid of honor and their flower girl.

Years ago, he would not have believed he could love anybody as much as he had loved Belladonna, but now, he sees Rogue walking down the aisle toward him and knows he could never have loved Belladonna as much as he loves her.

Rogue smiles at him softly, like she's keeping a secret. She's as radiant as the day he married her and absolutely beautiful with child.

'I love you,' she mouths.

He feels dizzy with how very much he loves her too.


	95. Beats

He loves to feel their baby kicking in her womb. He'll lay his hand gently against her stomach at night, and it feels like tiny heartbeats in his palm.

Rogue is as often asleep, dreaming, silky hair fanning over the pillow and the arm he's leaning on, and as often awake, sleepy eyes fluttering open to watch him curiously.

"What are you thinking, Remy?" she whispers softly, her breath like a butterfly kiss against his shoulder.

He shakes his head, unable to put this feeling into words. He loves being a père. He thinks these heartbeats are somehow his own.


	96. Bundles

A feeling of apprehension churns in his gut until he finally sees her, flushed and tired, but triumphant, snuggling a soft, squirming bundle in her arms. Remy wraps an arm around her gently and stares down into his daughter's face.

She is perfect: ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, a button nose, happy noises, and kicking feet. He cannot help but lean over and nuzzle the top of her downy head. She scrunches her face and blinks at him.

"What shall we call her?" Rogue whispers in his ear.

He shivers at the contact.

"Amanda Kayla," he answers softly. _Beloved._


	97. Babies

Rogue asks Mercy to be her godmother and Logan to be godfather. Mercy cries. Logan stares as if she's asked him to turn into a bunny rabbit.

Remy can hardly be separated from their new baby. He's always kissing her, holding her, telling her stories, tickling her toes, and coaxing out that giggly sound she loves to make. Rebecca decides that 'Manda' is _her_ baby. Liv asks Mama if the stork will take her back.

Henri informs Rogue that he's been studying up, and she certainly won't have to take the _children_ somewhere else to get help with their powers.


	98. Airs

The girls take her out in some odd reverse of the baby shower.

"It's been a month, girl," Lorna informs her bluntly. "Kitty's off her honeymoon and the two of you need to come up for _air_."

Which air seems to mean shopping, lunch at their favorite bistro, and lots of laughter with Ororo, Moira, Alison, Jubilee, and everyone else she didn't even know she was missing so much until they kidnapped her and the kids.

"What about Remy?" she did manage to ask—once.

Jubilee waves her off. "Logan's taking the boys out."

"Motorcycles," Kitty grimaces. "_We_ have taste."


	99. Washes

For years, Rogue has been looking forward to what life could be _if only_... But in the half-light before dawn, she wakes in her husband's embrace and looks back. From the time she was a little girl, she wanted the white picket fence, a little house to call her own, a family to treasure and love.

It nearly chokes her as it washes over her, a wave of gratitude that her cup could be so full.

"Chère..." His voice is husky with sleep. He holds her closer, breathes deeply against her. "Y' okay?"

Her eyes close without her choosing. "Yes."


	100. Pictures

A/N: Part of me is sorry this story ends. Another part is so glad another story is _finally _complete.

* * *

She's been rocking on the back porch swing overlooking the garden for hours. Liv has laid his tousled head against her knees, and Becca is sleeping, cheek pillowed on the crook of her arm. Amanda is nestled against her mother as if she were meant to fill this sweet ache in her heart.

It is a while before she feels that tingle in her spine letting her know Remy is watching. When she looks up, he is standing in the doorway.

She smiles softly, shyly.

His eyes soften.

She thinks they feel the same, that they'll hold this picture... Forever.


End file.
